Green eyes glued to the window and unblinking, her tiny hands kneaded mercilessly against the blanket held within them. Her hair was askew and the bed she sat in a right mess, but the young red head was focused on one thing and would be darned if she let her attention wander. A small noise sounded, her head snapped towards the doorway only to find one of her brothers passing by, having stumbled in the hall. A glare lighting up her delicate features, she heard an apologetic mumble before silence fell around her once more. The young girl was waiting.

Waiting for a letter she knew would never come.

For all the powerful magic that flowed through her veins and the ancestry she held, none of it had asserted itself to claim her as a witch. She’d heard tales of Albus having accidentally turned a cat pink as his first display of magic, and James causing things to move…but nothing of that sort had ever happened because of her. Since she could walk and talk and understand the concept of magic, she’d waited for the moment that would show she was a witch.

But it had never come, and the very thought of the last five years without it were enough to make tears bead up in the young girl’s eyes. She blinked rapidly to try to hold them back, but she was unable to stop the sob that left her throat. This was gut wrenching. Completely unfair. She grabbed a hold of the nearest pillow and held it tight against her chest, letting herself cry into the comfort of its soft texture. Shaking with the desolate feeling of not fitting into her own family, of being left out of something she’d wanted all her life, young Lily Potter was soon hiccupping from the amount of tears and ragged breaths she had taken.

“Lily?” Came a tentative call from the doorway, and the girl turned her tear blurred gaze to the doorway. There were no more words said as her father, a man admired by most of the wizarding world, took the few short steps to her bed and sat down. There was barely a moments pause before Lily clung tightly to him, crying into her father’s shirt as her dream shattered around them.

“It’s not…It’s not coming,” she forced out, voice effected by tears and sadness. Her father wrapped an arm around her, holding her tightly, giving her hope for a moment. He was Harry Potter. The chosen one. The boy who lived. She didn’t care too much about that, but the power of those titles gave her hope he could fix this. He could argue with someone or something and make it give her magic. He would make everything right and she’d get her letter. He wouldn’t let her miss out on it -- the assurance of that slowed her tears for a moment.

“No, it’s not, Lily.” But that statement…it had her pull away slightly and stare at him, eyes wide and red rimmed, nose running and sniffles still leaving her. His eyes were gentle, but Lily felt as if he’d just hurt her in the worst way. He was supposed to say that it was. That the owl had made a mistake and delivered her letter to a wrong house. That Albus or James had been extremely cruel and hidden it on her, and he’d come up to give it back.

“But…it has to come…I can’t…” she couldn’t bear to finish, fresh tears streaming down her face as she clung to the pillow once more.

“If I could, I’d give you your letter in a heartbeat. But Lils, it’s not coming.” He leaned forward and tilted her head upwards with one hand, gaze kind and gentle on his daughter. His little girl whose tears made his very heart break. He’d been able to defeat Voldemort, to hunt down Horcruxes and overcome so much -- yet now he couldn’t do a thing to help his daughter. “But not being magical is not the end of the world. I know it seems it right now, but there are plenty of magical things you can learn without it. Potions, for one. Defense. History…” his point didn’t seem to be doing too much, tears still trailing down the little girl's face and a loud hiccup leaving her lips.

And despite it all, that made him laugh. She looked distressed as he did so, but he pulled her into a hug. “Lily, there is still so much you can do and learn. I will make sure you get to learn whatever you’d like. And you know that Uncle George has never had anyone so eager to test his products. We both know your mother is a bit of a disaster in the kitchen, and you helping her is the difference between us starving and a lovely meal,” and finally, at long last, he elicited a small smile from his daughter. “Not getting your letter doesn’t change any of that. It doesn’t change who you are. It just means you’re different, in your own amazing way,” he murmured, arm around her shoulder.

“But…I’ll never apparate like Teddy. Or transfigure things like Victoire. Or get to play Quidditch…I want to be magic, daddy. Why can’t I be magic like everyone else?” she asked, though her tears were finally dissipating a bit.

“If you want to play Quidditch, you can play Quidditch. There’s side along apparation and I’m sure when Uncle George finds out, he will jump to get you a way to transfigure things. You have a magical family that loves you, and the fact you’re not magic makes you unique. It’ll make life harder and might be tough at times, but I promise you’ll be okay,” squeezing her shoulders reassuringly, it was a relief to finally have her tiny body stop shivering.

“Can I still get an owl? And a wand?” she muttered, still clearly upset but calming down. Her father, as usual, had good points even though she wanted to shove them aside and hate whatever deity had decided she shouldn’t be magical.

“Of course you can still get an owl! Books and potions ingredients as well, if you’d like. Nothing saying you can’t learn it. You know Neville would be thrilled to teach you about Herbology, so you can owl him later and set something up. And…a wand might be tougher, but we’ll work something out. I promise. And now…you should go wash up a bit and grab a sweater. It’s cold and Grandma Weasley expects us all for dinner.” Lily nodded as he said this, feeling a bit better that she could still at least get and learn things. Her father gave her one last tight hug before standing up and leaving, the young girl teetering off her bed and swaying a moment before grabbing for her sweater.

“Hey Red,” the voice from the door had her jump slightly, turning to see Albus. “Just think, no homework.” And despite Lily wanting to bite her lip and stop it, a giggle left her.

“Thanks, Al. And no, that doesn’t mean I’m doing yours.” More laughter ensuing, she tightened her grip on her sweater and left the room to wash away the tears of her crumbled future. A bit worse for wear, but hopeful she could still do good.

She, Lily Luna Potter, daughter of Ginny Weasley and the great, famous Harry Potter was a squib. But perhaps she could grow to be proud of that.

Just a small plot bunny that hopped in my head and manifested into this! ^^ Feedback/criticism is most certainly welcome and I hope you enjoyed this!